by Andy Adams
CHAPTER XII
A WINTER DRIFT
The month of March was the last intrenchment in the wintry siege. If itcould be weathered, victory would crown the first good fight of theboys, rewarding their courage in the present struggle and fortifyingagainst future ones. The brothers had cast their lot with the plains,the occupation had almost forced itself on them, and having tasted thespice of battle, they buckled on their armor and rode forth. Withoutstruggle or contest, the worthy pleasures of life lose their nectar.
The general thaw came as a welcome relief. The cattle had graduallyweakened, a round dozen had fallen in sacrifice to the elements, andsteps must be taken to recuperate the herd.
"We must loose-herd hereafter," said Joel, rejoicing in the thawingweather. "A few warm days and the corral will get miry. Unless thewolves return, we'll not pen the cattle again."
Dell was in high feather. "The winter's over," said he. "Listen to thecreek talking to itself. No, we'll not have to corral the herd anylonger. Wasn't we lucky not to have any more cattle winter-killed! Everyday during the last month I felt that another week of winter would takehalf the herd. It was good fighting, and I feel like shouting."
"It was the long distance between the corral and the divides thatweakened the cattle," said Joel. "Hereafter we'll give them all therange they need and only put them under close-herd at night. There maybe squally weather yet, but little danger of a general storm. After thisthaw, farmers on the Solomon will begin their spring ploughing."
A fortnight of fine weather followed. The herd was given almost absolutefreedom, scattering for miles during the day, and only thrown togetherat nightfall. Even then, as the cattle grazed entirely by day, a milesquare of dry slope was considered compact enough for the night. Theextra horses, which had ranged for the winter around Hackberry Grove,were seen only occasionally and their condition noted. The winter hadhaired them like llamas, the sleet had worked no hardship, as a horsepaws to the grass, and any concern for the outside saddle stockwas needless.
The promise of spring almost disarmed the boys. Dell was anxious toknow the value of the bales of peltry, and constantly urged his brotherfor permission to ride to the railroad and inquire.
"What's your hurry?" was Joel's rejoinder. "I haven't shouted yet. I'mnot sure that we're out of the woods. Let's win for sure first."
"But we ought to write to Mr. Paul and Mr. Quince," urged the youngerboy, by way of a double excuse. "There may be a letter from them atGrinnell now. Let's write to our friends in Texas and tell them thatwe've won the fight. The spring's here."
"You can go to the station later," replied Joel. "The fur will keep, andwe may have quite a spell of winter yet. Don't you remember the oldweather proverb, of March coming in like a lion and going out like alamb? This one came in like a lamb, and we had better keep an eye on itfor fear it goes out like a lion. You can go to the railroad in April."
There was wisdom in Joel's random advice. As yet there was no responsein the earth to the sun's warmth. The grass was timid and refused tocome forth, and only a few foolish crows had reached the shrub andwillow along the Beaver, while the absence of other signs of springcarried a warning that the wintry elements might yet arise and roarlike a young lion.
The one advantage of the passing days was the general improvement in theherd. The instinct of the cattle led them to the buffalo grass, whichgrew on the slopes and divides, and with three weeks of fair weather andfull freedom the herd as a whole rounded into form, reflecting itstenacity of life and the able handling of its owners.
Within ten days of the close of the month, the weakened lines ofintrenchment were again assaulted. The herd was grazing westward, alongthe first divide south of the Beaver, when a squall struck near themiddle of the afternoon. It came without warning, and found the cattlescattered to the limits of loose herding, but under the eyes of twoalert horsemen. Their mounts responded to the task, circling the herd ondifferent sides, but before it could be thrown into mobile form andpointed into the Beaver valley, a swirl of soft snow enveloped horsesand riders, cattle and landscape. The herd turned its back to the storm,and took up the steady, sullen march of a winter drift. Cut off from thecorral by fully five miles, the emergency of the hour must be met, andthe brothers rode to dispute the progress of the drifting cattle.
"Where can we turn them?" timidly inquired Dell.
"Unless the range of sand dunes catch us," replied Joel, "nothing shortof the brakes of the Prairie Dog will check the cattle. We're out untilthis storm spends its force."
"Let's beat for the sand hills, then. They lay to our right, and thewolves are gone."
"The storm is from the northwest. If it holds from that quarter, we'llmiss the sand dunes by several miles. Then it becomes a question ofhorseflesh."
"If we miss the sand hills, I'll go back and get a pack horse andovertake you to-morrow. It isn't cold, and Dog-toe can face the storm."
"That's our one hope," admitted Joel. "We've brought these cattlethrough a hard winter and now we mustn't lose them in a spring squall."
The wind blew a gale. Ten minutes after the storm struck and the cattleturned to drift with it, all knowledge of the quarter of the compass waslost. It was a reasonable allowance that the storm would hold a truecourse until its wrath was spent, and relying on that slender thread,the boys attempted to veer the herd for the sand hills. By nature cattleare none too gregarious, as only under fear will they flock compactly,and the danger of splitting the herd into wandering contingents must beavoided. On the march which lay before it, its compactness must bemaintained, and to turn half the herd into the sand dunes and let theremainder wander adrift was out of the question.
"We'll have to try out the temper of the herd," said Joel. "The cattleare thin, have lost their tallow, and this wind seems to be cutting themto the quick. There's no use in turning the lead unless the swing cattlewill follow. It's better to drift until the storm breaks than to splitthe herd into little bunches."
"Let's try for the sand hills, anyhow," urged Dell. "Turn the leadersever so slightly, and I'll try and keep the swing cattle in line."
An effort to reach the shelter of the sand dunes was repeatedly made.But on each attempt the wind, at freezing temperature, cut the cattle tothe bone, and as drifting was so much more merciful, the brothers choseto abandon the idea of reaching a haven in the sand hills.
"The cattle are too weak," admitted Joel, after repeated efforts. "Turnthe leaders and they hump their backs and halt. An hour of this windwould drop them in their tracks. It's drift or die."
"I'll drop back and see how the drag cattle are coming on," suggestedDell, "and if they're in line I might as well start after a pack horse.We're only wearing out our horses in trying to turn this herd."
The efforts to veer the herd had enabled the drag end to easily keep ina compact line, and on Dell's return to the lead, he reported thedrifting column less than a quarter mile in length.
"The spirit of the herd is killed," said he; "the cattle can barely holdtheir heads off the ground. Why, during that Christmas drift, theyfought and gored each other at every chance, but to-day they act likelost sheep. They are half dead on their feet."
The herd had been adrift several hours, and as sustenance for man andhorse was important, Dell was impatient to reach the Beaver beforenightfall.
"If the storm has held true since it struck," said he, "I'll cut itquartering from here to headquarters. That good old corn that Dog-toehas been eating all winter has put the iron into his blood, until hejust bows his neck and snorts defiance against this wind and snow."
"Now, don't be too sure," cautioned Joel. "You can't see one hundredyards in this storm, and if you get bewildered, all country looks alike.Trust your horse in any event, and if you strike above or belowheadquarters, if you keep your head on your shoulders you ought torecognize the creek. Give your horse free rein and he'll take youstraight to the stable door. Bring half a sack of corn, some bread andmeat, the tent-fly and blankets. Start an hour bef
ore daybreak, andyou'll find me in the lead of the herd."
The brothers parted for the night. So long as he could ride in theirlead, the necessity of holding the cattle was the lodestar thatsustained Joel Wells during those lonely hours. There was always thehope that the storm would abate, when the tired cattle would gladly haltand bed down, which promise lightened the passing time. The work waseasy to boy and horse; to retard the march of the leaders, that the rearmight easily follow, was the task of the night or until relieved.
On the other hand, Dell's self-reliance lacked caution. Secure in hisability to ride a course, day or night, fair or foul weather, he hadbarely reached the southern slope of the Beaver when darkness fell. Thehorse was easily quartering the storm, but the pelting snow in the boy'sface led him to rein his mount from a true course, with the result thatseveral miles was ridden without reaching any recognizable landmark. Aravine or dry wash was finally encountered, when Dell dismounted. As amatter of precaution, he carried matches, and on striking one, confusionassumed the reign over all caution and advice. He was lost, butcontentious to the last ditch. Several times he remounted and allowedhis horse free rein, but each time Dog-toe turned into the eye of thestorm, then the true course home, and was halted. Reason was abandonedand disorder reigned. An hour was lost, when the confident boy mountedhis horse and took up his former course, almost crossing the line ofstorm on a right angle. A thousand visible forms, creatures of the nightand storm, took shape in the bewildered mind of Dell Wells, and afterdismounting and mounting unknown times, he floundered across BeaverCreek fully three miles below headquarters.
The hour was unknown. Still confused, Dell finally appealed to hishorse, and within a few minutes Dog-toe was in a road and champing thebits against restraint. The boy dismounted, and a burning match revealedthe outlines of a road under the soft snow. The horse was given reinagain and took the road like a hound, finally sweeping under a tree,when another halt was made. It was the hackberry at the mouth of thecove, its broken twigs bespoke a fire which Dell had built, and yet themute witness tree and impatient horse were doubted. And not untilDog-toe halted at the stable door was the boy convinced of his error.
"Dog-toe," said Dell, as he swung out of the saddle, "you forgot morethan I ever knew. You told me that I was wrong, and you pled with melike a brother, and I wouldn't listen to you. I wonder if he'll forgiveme?" meditated Dell, as he opened the stable door.
The horse hurriedly entered and nickered for his feed. "Yes, you shallhave an extra ration of corn," answered his rider. "And if you'll justforgive me this once, the lesson you taught me to-night will never beforgotten."
It proved to be early in the evening--only eight o'clock. Even thoughthe lesson was taught by a dumb animal, it was worth its cost. Beforeoffering to sleep, Dell collected all the articles that were to make upthe pack, foddered the horses, set the alarm forward an hour, and soughthis blankets for a short rest. Several times the howling of the windawoke him, and unable to sleep out the night, he arose and built a fire.The necessity of a pack saddle robbed him of his own, and, substitutinga blanket, at the appointed hour before dawn he started, with threedays' rations for man and horse. The snow had ceased falling, but a rawMarch wind blew from the northwest, and taking his course with it, hereached the divide at daybreak. A struggling sun gave him a bearing fromtime to time, the sand dunes were sighted, and angling across the courseof the wind, the trail of the herd was picked up in the mushy snow. Abull was overtaken, resting comfortably in a buffalo wallow; threeothers were passed, feeding with the wind, and finally the sun burstforth, revealing the brakes of the Prairie Dog.
Where the cattle had drifted barely two miles an hour, sustenance wasfollowing at a five-mile gait. The trail freshened in the snow, narrowedand broadened, and near the middle of the forenoon the scattered herdwas sighted. The long yell of warning was answered only by a tinysmoke-cloud, hanging low over the creek bed, and before Joel was awareof his presence, Dell rode up to the very bank under which the firewas burning.
"How do you like an all-night drift?" shouted Dell. "How do snowballstaste for breakfast?"
"Come under the cliff and unpack," soberly replied Joel. "I hope thisis the last lesson in winter herding; I fail to see any romance in it."
The horses were unsaddled and fed. "Give an account of yourself," urgedDell, as the brothers returned to the fire. "How did you make out duringthe night?"
"I just humped my back like the other cattle and took my medicine,"replied Joel. "An Indian dances to keep warm, and I sang. You have noidea how good company cattle are. One big steer laid his ear in Rowdy'sflank to warm it. I took him by the horn any number of times and wokehim up; he was just staggering along asleep. I talked to all the leadcattle, named them after boys we knew at school, and sometimes theywould look up when I called to them. And the queerest thing happened!You remember old Redman, our teacher, back in Ohio. Well, I saw him lastnight. There was a black two-year-old steer among the lead cattle, andevery time I looked at him, I saw old Redman, with his humped shoulder,his pug nose, and his half-shut eyes. It took the storm, the sullendrift, to put that expression in the black steer's face, but it was oldRedman. During the two terms of school that he taught, he licked me ascore of times, but I dared him to come out of that black steer's faceand try it again. He must have heard me, for the little black steerdropped back and never came to the lead again."
"And had you any idea where you were?" inquired Dell, prompted by hisown experience.
"I was right at home in the lead of the herd. The tepee might get lost,but I couldn't. I knew we must strike the Prairie Dog, and the cattlewere within half a mile of it when day broke. Once I got my bearings,Rowdy and I turned on the herd and checked the drift."
A late breakfast fortified the boys for the day. It was fullytwenty-five miles back to the Beaver, but with the cattle weakened, thehorses worn, it was decided to rest a day before starting on the return.During the afternoon, Dell went back and threw in the stragglers, andtowards evening all the cattle were put under loose herd and pointednorth. The sun had stripped the snow, and a comfortable camp was madeunder the cliff. Wood was scarce on the Prairie Dog, but the dry, rankstalks of the wild sunflower made a good substitute for fuel, and nightsettled over human and animal in the full enjoyment of every comfort.
It was a two-days' trip returning. To Rowdy fell the duty of packhorse. He had led the outward march, and was entitled to an easy berthon retreat. The tarpaulin was folded the full length of the horse's bodygirth, both saddles being required elsewhere, and the corn and blanketslaid within the pack and all lashed securely. The commissary suppliesbeing light, saddle pockets and cantle strings were found sufficient fortheir transportation.
The start was made at sunrise. The cattle had grazed out several milesthe evening before, and in their weakened condition it would requirenursing to reach the Beaver. A mile an hour was the pace, nothing like acompact herd or driving was permissible, and the cattle were allowed tofeed or rest at their will. Rowdy grazed along the flank, the boyswalked as a relief, and near evening or on sighting the dunes, Dell tookthe pack horse and rode for their shelter, to locate a night camp. Theherd never swerved from its course, and after sunset Joel rounded thecattle into compact form and bedded them down for the night. A beaconfire of plum brush led him to the chosen camp, in the sand hills, wheresupper awaited the brothers.
"Isn't it lucky," said Dell, as he snuggled under the blankets, "thatthe wolves are gone. Suppose they were here yet, and we had to buildfires, or stand guard over the herd to-night, like trail men, couldwe do it?"
"Certainly. We met the wolves before and held the cattle. You seem toforget that we're not entitled to sleep any in the winter. Be grateful.Thank the wolf and go to sleep."
"See how the dunes loom up in the light of this camp-fire. I wish Mr.Paul could see it."
"More than likely he has camped in the dunes and enjoyed many rousingfires."
Dell's next remark was unanswered. The stars twinkled overhe
ad, thesandman was abroad, curfew sounded through the dunes, and all was quiet.
"Here's where we burn the wagon," said Joel, as he aroused Dell atdaybreak. "It's one of Mr. Quince's remarks, but this is the first timewe've had a chance to use it. I'll divide the corn into three goodfeeds, and we'll make it in home for supper. Let's have the wholehummingbird for breakfast, so that when we ride out of this camp, allworth saving will be the coffee pot and frying pan. So long as we holdthe cattle, who cares for expense."
The herd was in hand as it left the bed ground. An ideal spring day lentits aid to the snailing cattle. By the middle of the afternoon thewatershed had been crossed, and the gradual slope clown to the Beaverwas begun. Rowdy forged to the lead, the flanks turned in, the rearpushed forward, and the home-hunger of the herd found expression in loudand continued lowing.
"I must have been mistaken about the spirit of this herd being killed,"observed Dell. "When I left you the other day, to go after a pack horse,these cattle looked dead on their feet. I felt sure that we would lose ahundred head, and we haven't lost a hoof."
"We may have a lot to learn yet about cattle," admitted Joel. "I fullyexpected to see our back track strung with dead animals."
The origin of the herd, with its deeps and moods, is unknown andunwritten. The domesticity of cattle is dateless. As to when the oxfirst knew his master's crib, history and tradition are dumb. Littlewonder that Joel and Dell Wells, with less than a year's experience,failed to fully understand their herd. An incident, similar to the onewhich provoked the observation of the brothers, may explain those placiddepths, the deep tenacity and latent power of the herd.
After delivering its cargo at an army post, an extensive freightingoutfit was returning to the supply point. Twelve hundred oxen wereemployed. On the outward trip, muddy roads were encountered, the wagonswere loaded beyond the strength of the teams, and the oxen had arrivedat the fort exhausted, spiritless, and faint to falling under theiryokes. Many oxen had been abandoned as useless within one hundred milesof the post, thus doubling the work on the others. On the return trip,these scattered oxen, the lame and halt, were gathered to the number ofseveral hundred, and were being driven along at the rear of the wagontrain. Each day added to their numbers, until one fourth of all the oxenwere being driven loose at the rear of the caravan. One day a boyblindfolded a cripple ox, which took fright and charged among hisfellows, bellowing with fear. It was tinder to powder! The loose oxenbroke from the herders, tore past the column of wagons, frenzied invoice and action. The drivers lost control of their teams, bedlamreigned, and the entire wagon train joined in the general stampede.Wagons were overturned and reduced to kindling in a moment of thewildest panic. The drivers were glad to escape with their lives and wereleft at the rear. A cloud of dust merely marked the direction which theoxen had taken. The teams, six to eight yoke each, wrenched theirchains, broke the bows, and joined in the onrush. Many of the oxen,still under yoke, were found the next day fifteen miles distant from thescene of the incident, and unapproachable except on horseback. For amonth previous to this demonstration of the latent power of cattle, thehumane drivers of the wagon train were constantly lamenting that thespirit of their teams was killed.
When within a mile of the Beaver, the herd was turned westward and givenits freedom. While drifting down the slope, Rowdy gradually crept far tothe lead, and as the brothers left the cattle and bore off homeward, thehorse took up a gentle trot, maintaining his lead until the stablewas reached.
"Look at the dear old rascal," said Joel, beaming with pride. "Thathorse knows more than some folks."
"Yes, and if Dog-toe could talk," admitted Dell, stroking his horse'sneck, "he could tell a good joke on me. I may tell it myself someday--some time when I want to feel perfectly ashamed of myself."
